


When Snobby Prats Sing...

by MissDrarryDawn



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: FWP, M/M, Songs, bravedraco, curse, curseddraco, dracosinging, fluffwithoutplot, harrybeingcute, softending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-07
Updated: 2019-12-07
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:22:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21708178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissDrarryDawn/pseuds/MissDrarryDawn
Summary: When Draco loses a bet to Justin Finch-Fletchley, he's cursed to only be able to speak via song. If he wants to say something, he'll have to sing it or not say it at all. At first, Draco finds it insufferable, but in the end he figures it didn't turn out too bad...//Completed//Word Count: 2.2k
Relationships: Drarry - Relationship
Comments: 12
Kudos: 159





	When Snobby Prats Sing...

Justin Finch-Fletchley could drop dead as far as Draco was concerned.

If it weren't for the miserable sod, Draco wouldn't be in this situation now. He wouldn't be _cursed_ to only be able to _sing_ his words. He didn't even know such an idiotic spell existed. Honestly, a spell that forced you to sing anything you wanted to say. Who the hell ever thought that would be useful? 

Though, loath as he was to admit it, it wasn't entirely Justin's fault either. Draco _did_ lose that bet. He underestimated Justin's appetite, a mistake he would never again repeat. Up until a day ago, Draco was _certain_ no one could eat 35 treacle tarts without dying. Today he stood corrected. Corrected _and_ annoyed. It's been a full day since he'd uttered but a word. He absolutely _refused_ to sing and make a fool of himself. 

Well, it wasn't all bad he comforted himself. He had his gin and a spot at his favorite bar, so Draco supposed it could have been worse. Just as he snugly settled into his little bubble, some dumb _oaf_ had to come and ruin it. The brute plopped himself down unceremoniously next to Draco, and turned to him with a lewd grin. Draco had to put in a considerable amount of effort not to grimace away, and schooled his features.

He arched an eyebrow at the man, tried for polite disinterest, but the guy didn't seem too observant of it. If only Draco wasn't a completely besotted fool for another, he might've even allowed this guy to pull him for a night. He was attractive enough. But as it stood, Draco's heart belonged to a particular green eyed prat and unfortunately for this stranger, he was not that green eyed prat.

"Hey pretty boy." The man leaned onto the bar, blatantly scrutinizing Draco, who threw up a little in his mouth. He nodded at the bartender to bring him another drink, he had no hopes of making it through this interaction without one. The brunette clicked his tongue at the bartender, grinning: "His drink's on me." Draco really wanted to roll his eyes, and wanted his ability to speak like a normal person back even more so. "So, what's a handsome man like you doing alone at a place like this?" Judging by his accent, and complete lack of awareness, Draco twigged he most likely was _not_ part of the War or anywhere near England while it was ravaged. 

Draco offered a shrug, not sure how to politely sing _'I'm a outcasted ex-Death Eater.'_ He found that he needn't have concerned himself with that for long, as the man seemed unperturbed by Draco's complete lack of reactions. He nudged his chair closer, and stretched up, pulling the oldest trick in the book, slinging an arm around Draco's hips. The blonde really felt his hackles rising at this. Couldn't this oaf find someone else to harass? Apparently not, as the next thing he did was lean so close to Draco, Draco could smell the whiskey on his breath. His eyes roved hungrily down his spine, settling at his arse. Draco cringed and scowled at him, shoving him away:

_"Get your hands off my hips, or I'll punch you in the lips, stop your staring at my-hey! Take a hint, take a hint! No, you can't buy me a drink, let me tell you what I think, I think you could use a mint, take a hint, take a hint!"_

Draco snarl-sang at him, too disgusted to find it in himself to be embarrassed. The brunette leered back, looking offended down to his core, before he stood and stomped away, muttering something in some other language under his breath. Draco sighed and downed his gin, in a twisted way happy to be left by himself to sulk. 

A few minutes later, his blissful self-loathing was interrupted by the bartender placing another gin'n'tonic he didn't order before him. 

"That mister over there sent it over." She informed him, pointing out someone at the back. Draco frowned in confusion and turned around, only to freeze. Potter sat there, staring straight at Draco, grinning like the Cheshire cat, something flickering in his green eyes. He lifted his tumbler of scotch in toast and called out across the bar:

"That was epic Malfoy. Have one on me."

Warmth spread through Draco much quicker than drink did, and he turned away hurriedly, hiding a ridiculous grin away. He felt himself flush and sighed deeply. _Why_ did it have to be Potter?

"Let me guess, you lost a bet to Justin?" A voice startled Draco and he turned, blinking dumbly at Potter, who had suddenly appeared next to him. Then he realized Potter had asked him something, and he nodded in reply. Harry chuckled, a sympathetic grin gracing his stupid handsome face:

"Mm, he's _brutal_. Had to wear a pink tutu through the offices for two bloody days once. Learned my lesson though."

Draco snorted, unable to help it. He remembered those two utterly glorious days with alarming clarity. Potter was so embarrassed but _damn_ if his legs weren't a sight to behold. 

"What did you even bet on?" Harry leaned on the bar, shifting himself sideways so he could give Draco his full undivided attention, and Draco did not know how to breathe. Eventually, he sighed, grabbed a napkin from the counter, summoned a quill and scribbled the answer.

 _'I bet he couldn't eat 35 treacle tarts.'_ He pushed the note at Harry, who bit his lip as he read it:

"Oh Malfoy, you do know that 35 isn't even his record? 65 is his record. He could eat 35 in his _sleep_. And I thought _I_ liked treacle tart." 

Draco gaped. _How_ was Justin still alive? 

"Ah, well. I hope you realize this is great entertainment for me." Harry snickered and ran a hand through his messy fucking hair, making Draco's fingers itch. Draco managed a convincing enough sneer and shook his head:

_"I'm not here for your entertainment. You don't really wanna mess with me tonight."_

Potter looked stricken to find that Draco had sang. His eyes were wide, lips curled up into a shy smile. Draco looked away, rolled his eyes, affecting boredom when all he wanted was to jump the idiot's bones.

"Well, if it helps any, you're a great singer." Potter finally spoke, voice lower than usual, just by an octave. "When's it wear off?" He continued conversationally.

Draco felt his considerably lifted mood sour. He scribbled on the napkin again. 

_'When I sing out my true heart's desire or some such bullshit.'_ He passed the note again and sighed angrily. It's not as if he could sing to Potter that he was hopelessly in love with him. He didn't fancy getting knocked in the face.

"Ooh, I see. Of course Justin would do that. So is it like, a person or a thing or something else?" Harry seemed genuinely interested, there was no mockery in his tone and Draco stared at him for a moment, studying him for a trace of insincerity, and found _none_. Damn the kind bastard.

He considered his options and grabbed the napkin again. He slouched morosely, figuring he had nothing else to lose:

_'A person.'_

Potter seemed awfully displeased with this, if the way he frowned darkly was anything to go by. He seemed to catch his thunderous expression after a moment, and flattened out his face:

"Right. Why not do it? I'm sure they'd be honored."

Draco couldn't help the mirthless laugh that roved out of him at that entirely idiotic statement. Potter just watched him with a curious frown, and after indulging for a moment, Draco pulled himself together and sang out his reply breathlessly:

_"Bad jokes, Lord I love them, bad jokes, can't get enough of them."_

Harry shrugged at that, and looked away, something dark dancing across his skin:

"Well I wasn't joking." He was completely serious, which sobered Draco up considerably. He was.. _what?_ Breathing evenly for a moment, Draco bit his lip, gathering all the courage he amassed through his life, which wasn't much, granted, but it just might get him through this. He wrote:

_'Oh please Potter. You, for example, would clock me in the face.'_

Now it was Harry's turn to chuckle madly. His head was thrown back, throat exposed and Draco squirmed in his chair, before forcing himself to still.

"Oh _Draco.._ " Harry muttered reverently, outstretching a hand towards Draco's face, grazing his pale cheek with the back of his knuckles. He leaned closer, absolutely fucking _beaming_ at poor, frozen Draco. "You'd be surprised..." He whispered into the space between them, before hopping off the stool, and rushing out. 

Sitting there after Harry departed, Draco idly wondered if this was what going into cardiac arrest felt like, and was pretty sure he'd drop dead any moment now.

~

Nearly two weeks later, Draco still couldn't stop thinking about Harry and what he'd said. He was ashamed to find himself at the bar _every night_ hoping Harry'd be there again. Not that he had any clue what would happen if one night he happened to actually find Harry there, but he still came back regularly.

It was a Sunday when Draco had encountered Harry there again. He walked in and found the man sitting in the same seat as before, guarding the stool next to him with a hand placed over it, as if he didn't want anyone to sit in it. He kept throwing searching looks around and his entire face lit up when he spotted Draco at the door. He patted the stool and Draco was absolutely _swooned_ to realize he'd been saving the seat for him, even though he couldn't have known whether Draco would show up that eve.

The blonde made his way over and sat down, for the first time glad he was cursed so he wouldn't be expected to talk. 

"Did ya sing to them yet?" Harry asked, looking mildly sick at the prospect. Draco shook his head in response and glared at a whiskey bottle on the shelf behind the bar. "Good." Potter murmured to himself, though Draco still heard him.

It was odd, all these signals Potter was sending. Draco didn't know what to make of any of it. He most certainly could not risk revealing anything unless he was certain of Harry's position, but seeing as he was robbed of his ability to just fucking _ask_ , he reckoned he'd have to do his best to gauge an educated guess based on what limited information he managed to get. Thinking quickly, Draco summoned a quill and a napkin:

 _'If you were in my shoes, would you do it?'_

The moment he read it, Harry looked up at Draco, gaze intense and sure and nodded without a moment's hesitation:

"Absolutely. Even if I got _'clocked in the face'_ , as you put it, he's worth it to me."

Draco's mouth dried rather rapidly. He wrote with a slight tremor zinging through his fingertips:

_'So..you're saying I should just go ahead and do it then, consequences be damned sort of style? How very...Gryffindor.'_

Harry chuckled his easy, heartwarming chuckle:

" _No_ , what I'm saying is, you decide whether they're worth the potentially broken nose and then either do it or go pummel Justin until he takes the spell off." 

Draco swallowed and scowled down at the parchment, hoping Harry didn't note his flustered state.

_'That was a bit more Slytherin like.'_

Harry rolled his eyes, a fond smile catching his lips nonetheless, as he ordered two fingers of scotch.

"So are they? Worth it?" He muttered, not quite managing to meet Draco's eye, focusing on swirling his drink instead.

 _Fuck you._ Draco thought. _Of course you're fucking worth it._ He scowled deeper, clenching his jaw, considering this situation. He couldn't remember a time when he _didn_ ' _t_ want Potter, when he didn't _melt_ at the sight of his messy hair, green eyes and glasses. He'd never yearned after someone _more_ , but he was a bloody coward and he knew that he would have never dared do anything. Now though, it was either _be brave_ or _be miserable_. And Draco supposed when it came down to that, he could fancy himself courageous. He nodded, and _sang:_

_"Lots of people in this world, but I want to be your guy. To me that thought sounds absurd, but this feeling's still gonna linger on..."_

Harry gaped at him openly after that, and Draco swiped his whiskey from his loose fingers, downing it all himself, feeling sick all of a sudden, the drink helping numb his frazzled nerves. He didn't dare look at the other man, not really sure what to expect now. 

"You know, I think I just found my new favorite thing." Harry finally spoke, light and easy, smiling like Draco had just plucked the Moon and stars down for him. 

"Do enlighten me." The blonde managed to muster, voice cracking as he realized he could speak normally again. The curse was _finally_ lifted.

"Snobby prats singing." Harry nodded to himself, before reaching out and turning Draco's head back to face him. He moved as close as he was able to without toppling from his stool and closed his lips over Draco's in the most loving of kisses.

~

_Fin._

**Author's Note:**

> HI! I'M NOT DEAD! I know I haven't posted in a long time, it's because my PC is broken and I have to scrabble around to find a device to write on, and it's been a real *struggle*, but I'm nothing if not stubborn so I found the means to write a cute, short piece for yall! I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> Find more on my [Tumblr](https://missdrarrydawn.tumblr.com/)


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